The Rogue Black
by Talking Bird
Summary: Follow the heiress of the house of Black as she emerges from hiding and discovers friendship, adventure, war, and love. GeorgexOC less romance more adventure.
1. Messes of Men

**Hi, so this is my first HP fan fiction. I've been working on it for a while and I'm excited to finally get it going! This is going to chronicle a character I made up from sixth year til the the end of the war. There are some facts that aren't true to the book, so you don't have to correct me, I had to change things so the story would work. The biggest one is that Fred and George won't leave Hogwarts until sixth year (sorry! I had to do it!)**

**I'm going to also try the whole chapter soundtrack thing that I've seen a lot of authors do. These songs lyrically and musically fit the tone of each chapter. It's not imperative, but if you wanna listen to good tunes, expand your musical knowledge, or feel what I was feeling while writing, does free music streaming, check it out.  
So without further ado, here's The Rogue Black!**

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Don't sue.

**Chapter One: Messes of Men  
Soundtrack: Messes of Men by Mewithoutyou**

* * *

"Well, are you ready?"

Remus looked down at me as we stood in front of a door to a house I'd never been to in a town I'd never heard of. He looked on in a curious way, a fatherly way, which made me inwardly wince; as much as I appreciated him, Remus was not my father. He assumed I was nervous. I was. Mere minutes from pouring out the very innards of my life to complete strangers, I was terrified.

"Ready as I'll ever be," I sighed. Remus laid a reassuring hand on my shoulder and with that, he knocked on the door.

~*~

I've been a secret my entire life. Probably the world's best kept one to be honest. Aside from a few friends of the family (who are mostly dead, by the way), I was forgotten and not a soul knew I existed. It's easy to forget a little girl a in a time of danger. Even if she is the final heiress of the wretched House of Black.

Let me break it down for you in a more vivid way: rewind thirteen years from now. Lord Voldemort's at large. Dozens of nasty, no-good, bloodthirsty, death eaters are wreaking havoc in England and are planning on expanding. My mother's left practically a widow as my father rots in Azkaban. And her death's probably at the top of those devils' to-do list. And I'm just kid, not even old enough to speak in complete sentences. _We had to get out._ So with the security of a trusty secret-keeper, we fled to a savage land for our kind. It's really different over in the U.S. But I was at least able to grow up as a well learning witch, and know the truth unlike most magic folk. All I ever wanted was to meet my father. He was like a myth placed upon a high pedestal as my mother told me stories of this fabulous man. How he was innocent and a fighter, and how he loved me so much. Needless to say, when he busted out during my fifth year, I was finished with sidewalks paved with gold.

But things change; it's just a part of life. Dad's dead, and I've been with my god-father, Remus Lupin for a while. I'm tired living a lie. I'm sick of hiding out, and I really can't stand my alias anymore. So with Remus and Professor Dumbledore's guidance, I've decided to reveal to the wizarding world that Sirius Black had a daughter

Me: Nola Black

~*~

An older looking woman answered the door. She was squat and seemingly frazzled with a furrowed brow, but she had "mother" written all over her face, and it made me feel immediately at ease.  
"Remus? You're a week early…" The woman seemed confused, and I was too; Remus failed to tell me we were unexpected company.  
"I'm sorry Molly," Remus apologized. "But there had to be a sudden change of plans."  
"Yeah, they were so sudden I didn't even know about them…" I mumbled to myself. I hated being left in the dark; I'd already spent 16 years in it. The woman turned to me at my remark and smiled.  
"Is this her?" She asked Remus. Her eyes got all big and doe-like.  
"Yes, this is Nola Black. Nola, this is Molly Weasley. You'll be living here with her family for a bit."  
_Cause _you_ can't deal with me? _I thought to myself darkly while extending my hand to shake Mrs. Weasley's. It was true: Remus and I had been in enough rows to last a lifetime. I loved him as if he were family, but we disagreed on too many things to live peaceably together. Mrs. Weasley meanwhile skipped the formalities and went for a bone crushing hug.  
"Oh, it's so nice to see you dear, all grown up and what not. Let me have a look at you." The surprisingly strong woman held me at my shoulders and inspected the damage known as me. She beamed. "You look just like your father." It was true; to my dismay I had inherited my dad's wildly thick hair, brown eyes, and his mischevious smile. The freckles however came from my mum.  
"She behaves like him too, little devil," Remus mused. "Perhaps we could continue this inside?"  
"Oh heavens, of course! It's cold out here! Come on then, in you go," Mrs. Weasley chimed while pushing us inside her home. I marveled.  
The house literally seemed to be alive. There was so much movement and chaos everywhere. There was a mop and bucket cleaning the floors lazily. In the living room two redheads were arguing heatedly about some sort of game. Meanwhile, there were sounds of explosions coming from upstairs and corresponding screams. It was absolutely amazing.  
"God, I wish I lived here…" I said quietly in awe.  
"You and me both, it's a madhouse," Remus chuckled. He tousled my hair playfully and I smiled. As much as we argued, I'd miss living with him. Since I met Remus, he'd always been like an older brother…_much_ older I'd always point out. We were still standing in the foyer when Mrs. Weasley turned to me.  
"How about you meet the others?" I had maybe a nano-second to respond before she shouted,  
"EVERYONE COME QUICK!"  
It was incredible how fast they reacted. They came from everywhere; people seemed to pop out of every door, crack, and hole in the entire house until the living room was packed with countless redheads and several others. Their eyes were first fixed on Remus warmly, but were soon confusedly averted to me. My stomach lurched; meeting new people never seemed this nervewracking.  
"Hello, everyone," Remus greeted. "I trust your holidays have been well?" No one answered. They were all still staring at me.  
"Who's the skirt?" One boy finally asked brashly. I stared intently at the carpet.  
"FRED!" Molly warned. Merlin, I wish I remembered an invisibility charm. It was so awkward. These people were once friends with my father. They were the only ones who protected him, believed his innocence, and even saved him once or twice. Now I had to tell them he had a daughter. It seemed displeasing even to me.  
Remus elbowed me gently: code for Introduce yourself before they think you're a mute idiot. So I did.  
"Hi. I'm Nola." They stared and so did I…at my feet, that is. Remus elbowed me again.  
"_Fine_. I'm Nola Black." The name came out of my mouth detestfully. It was new to even me. I mean, before then I was Lex Williams. Before that, Allison Scott. Then there was Odette Agen and many others before. Resuming my real name was something even I had to come to terms with  
Immediately all of their eyes grew to the size of tennis balls. Half of their mouths formed the shape of blatantly shocked o's; I had officially become a sideshow.  
"That's a joke, right?" One boy asked.  
"Cause if it is, it's not funny," chided another.  
"And we know funny," they said together.  
"It's not joke, boys," Remus reassured. "Sirius was married and had Nola before he was imprisoned. For safety reasons, Nola and her mother left the country a long time ago. No one could know about them, it was too dangerous. "  
The silence was so stifling, my ears began to ring. They were all staring. _Still_. Nearly every person in the room furrowed their brows in confusion. I looked at Remus for help, but he was busy picking invisible lint off his waistcoat. I couldn't handle it anymore.  
"Well, say something," I demanded. But they all just kept staring. After at least two or three minutes of silence, a red-headed girl broke the trance.  
"You look a lot like him."  
"Yeah she's got the crazy hair."  
"And the shifty eyes."  
"Except the freckles."  
"Yeah, what, did Sirius marry a magic marker?"  
I laughed thankfully. Acceptance didn't seem impossible anymore. The entire group began to introduce themselves. The Weasley family itself was huge, with Arthur and Molly, Charlie, Bill, Fred and George (the 'funny' guys), Ron and Ginny. And then there was Hermione Granger, an intimidatingly intelligent friend. I shook several hands before the revelry was interrupted.  
"_You've got to be bloody kidding me…"_ A voice scoffed. I looked for the source and there sitting with crossed arms was a boy with dark hair and glasses: Harry Potter. He stood abruptly and started for the stairs.  
"Harry stop," said Remus.  
"Why? So I can hear more about how the closest thing I ever had to a family was a complete lie? No, I think I'll save the distress for something more _important_." He spat the last word in my direction.  
"You can't blame Nola or Sirius for the precautions they had to take," Remus defended.  
"Precautions? The only man who ever cared about me failed to mention he had a wife and a kid off in God knows where. Everything he told me could've been a lie too!"  
"It wasn't his fault." I interjected. This was getting ridiculous. "Look, I can see your evident trust issues, you being on every Death Eater's hit list, but we were in _danger._ No one could know I even existed."  
"Then why don't you just go back to where you came from? We didn't need you complicating things before, and we don't need you now," he said with slit eyes. I stared with baited breath. This was not going anywhere; time to pull out the big guns.  
I grabbed an ancient yellowed photograph from my back pocket and approached Harry.  
"Look," I said firmly, thrusting the picture into his hands. He looked down at it askance.  
It was a little girl, no older than three, hugging a young black haired infant: it was me and Harry pre-Voldemort. My dad soon steps into the frame with a rare smile on his face and James follows. Both fathers attempt to retrieve and coddle their children but we don't want to let go of each other.  
"We were friends. Inseparable from what my dad told me. Don't you think they would've liked us to get along still?"  
He stared at me in horror as if I had grown three heads. His mouth opened and closed in an attempt to form words. Soon enough the rage came back ten-fold as he looked me up and down with disgust.  
"I wouldn't know what they want, would I? _They're dead_," he snarled.  
"But Harry…"  
"_No_." And with one swift motion he tore my picture in two and dropped the pieces. It was like he ripped me in half instead. I watched the pieces flutter to the floor, heartbroken. Harry then quickly started for the stairs and disappeared, but I was too upset to care. That was my only picture of my dad. My last memory was destroyed. Tears welled up in my eyes, and that's when I noticed everyone was watching me cautiously. They were expecting waterworks, but anger shortly arrived and I decided I'd give them fireworks instead. So like Harry, I stormed off, only towards the front door.  
"Nola, stop." I ignored the request. I heard footsteps advancing on me. I spun around and drew my wand at Remus, the tip inches from his nose.  
"Don't," I threatened, my voice shaking with anger. I would have charmed him. He knew I would. I turned to leave again, but Remus still wouldn't have it. In a last attempt, he grabbed my wrist to stop me; but it was too late for that. I wrenched my hand away with all the power I could muster and ran out of the house as fast as I could. I just needed to breathe; and you can't do that when it feels like the world's crashing down in the form of a crowded house.

* * *

**Please review?**


	2. I Must Belong Somwhere

**Chapter Two: I must belong somewhere  
Song: I Must Belong Somwhere by Bright Eyes**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, don't sue.

* * *

  
**

It was night by the time I cooled off. I sat on the roof of the Burrow and continued to sulk. Harry was being a git. So we're not going to get along, no big deal, but did he have to tear apart my picture? My only picture of my dad? I probably should've taken the pieces and tried to mend the picture, but magical photos are finicky. The movements are never the same after damage; they're usually fragmented or unnatural after repair. You know, I bet no one would dare mess with pictures of James and Lily Potter… what a jerk.  
I was interrupted from my thoughts when a loud popping sound came from behind me and I felt the weight of bodies land on the rickety roof.  
"I knew it! Told you she'd be up here!" A male voice called.  
"Yeah, yeah…"  
"Hand it over, elephant face."  
"Hey, watch the profanities."  
I turned around and saw the twins, Fred and George; one was giving money to the other. They stopped mid-exchange and grinned sheepishly. I continue to look on skeptically.  
"Were you two betting on where I would turn up?" I asked slowly. They shrugged their shoulders and continued to smile.  
"Afraid so, girlie," said one.  
"We can't help it," chimed the other.  
"We're men," They added together.  
"…Elephant face?" I asked confused.  
"I consider it a term of endearment." George replied. I shook my head in amused disbelief.  
"And you do that freaky twin thing a lot?" I asked with slight wonder. They looked at each other then back at me in a cartoonish fashion.  
"Yes." They answered, proving a point. I rolled my eyes and continued to stare out at the horizon. The twins plopped down on either side of me, the roof groaned in protest.  
"You know, it's harder than it looks," Fred argued.  
"The 'freaky twin thing' you call it," George added.  
"Took us years to get down."  
I would have smiled or shot back a witty remark, but I just wasn't feeling it; I wanted to mope, so I just continued to stargaze.  
"How'd you find me?" I asked after a minute or two if silence. "I didn't think anyone would believe I'd have the guts to end up on this rickety roof…"  
"That's an easy one babe," Fred answered. I shot him a dirty look at the 'babe' part.  
"We saw you run off towards the muggle village about a mile down the road."  
"But we've been there, a right boring place it is."  
"So we knew you'd end up back home."  
"Only a matter of time."  
"And we thought, 'where do we go when the world's gone rotten and or we need to hide?'" George patted the roof affectionately.  
"So here you are."  
"And here we are. Mystery solved."  
I stared with a furrow brow, utterly bewildered. It was like talking to one person, only fragmented. My head played tennis, shooting back and forth from twin to twin as they explained their reasoning. It made me dizzy.  
"Touché," I finally commended.  
"Thank you m'lady," George winked.  
"Now come on, let's go downstairs, Mum made shepherd's pie." They both stood to go and simultaneously reached out hands to help me up.  
"I don't want to," I replied. They immediately sat back down, the roof shaking just a little more dangerously.  
"Why not?" They asked. Wasn't it obvious?  
"Isn't it obvious?" I asked. They stared at me blankly. I guess it wasn't. I huffed impatiently. "I don't want to go down there, with all those people, including a kid who hates me because I'm upset. And upset people usually just run off and brood for a while." They continued to give me that blank look; it made me want to scream.  
"Well…you covered the running off part earlier…"  
"And you've got the brooding part out of the way…"  
"Now it's time to eat!" They stood up again and reached out their hands once more.  
"It's not that easy," I admitted. They groaned and sat back down.  
"Is it Harry?" George asked?  
"Cause believe me, you haven't seen a thing yet. That kid's an emotional roller coaster." Fred added.  
"No, it's not him," I confirmed. My cheeks went red. I was beginning to realize how childish I was being.  
"Then what is it?" Fred asked. I exhaled.  
"That was my only picture of my father. And he ruined it. I wasn't expecting Harry and I to be best friends; if I were him I'd feel betrayed too, but he should at least have some empathy for the not having a dad part." I looked down at my shoes trying to not let them see me get all teary eyed. They were looking at me with goofy grins  
"What is it?" I asked incredulously. Was snot running from my nose or something?  
"Boy, are we gonna make your day," Fred gloated.  
"A couple of heroes we are!" George puffed out his chest.  
"What did you do..?" I asked sort of frightened. George reached into his pocket and handed me my picture. It was completely repaired. The movements were exactly the same as before. It looked like it had never been torn.  
"…How..?" I was speechless.  
"We invented a picture serum a few years back," said Fred. "It can fix just about any messed up photo."  
I felt like I was gonna cry again, but I just hugged them instead.  
"Thank you, really, you have no idea how much this means to me."  
"Just don't get used to this," George warned.  
"Yeah, we specialize in tricks, pranks, and other affiliated items. _Not_ saving the day," Fred stated matter-of-factly.  
"We just don't like seeing girls cry."  
"Well, usually."  
"Can we eat now?" George got on his knees and clutched my hands. "Please Miss, just a noodle and a drop o' tea!" Fred joined in on the act. He fell on his back and writhed in mock pain.  
"So hungry! I see a light!"  
"Alright, let's go," I laughed. We stood up but before I could start climbing down the gutter, Fred grabbed my wrist.  
"Hang on. Before we go, you have to tell us something." I looked on suspiciously.  
"Okay. What's up?"  
"Do you always run away from a conflict?" Fred asked.  
"You know that's poor character." George added. I raised my eyebrows.  
"In case you haven't noticed, I've been running from conflict my whole life. I don't know any better," I stated in mock innocence. Fred smiled.  
"Don't worry we'll teach you how to know better."  
"You'll be taking the bull by the horns in no time."  
"Or the wizard by the ears if you want."  
I laughed and they apparated me downstairs before I could say another word.

~*~

"I need to talk to you," I said to Harry while tapping his shoulder. Dinner had ended and I just barely managed to catch him retreating back upstairs. Unlike myself, he hadn't calmed down; he was frowning at me as if he were born to. His fists remained clenched and it was obvious he was using all the self control he had to not spontaneously combust in a fit of anger.  
"There's nothing to talk about." Harry said shortly, turning to leave. I grabbed his shoulder to face him; I refuse to let him get away that easily.  
"No. There's plenty to talk about. You're just not up for the potential turmoil."  
Harry glared at me, but stayed rooted in his place. _I had caught his attention at least_. I took a deep breath. "Can we go outside?" Harry still didn't look one bit pleased. But unblinkingly, he nodded.  
We sat on the porch and didn't talk for a few moments. I risked a few sideways glances but in fear of catching eye contact kept them short. Harry stared mercilessly at the ground and kicked at a few pebbles. _  
In the last six hours, I've become a walking awkward silence… _I thought skeptically. I gathered up some courage and turned to him.

"Look," we both said at the same time. I smirked in response; the boy who lived had been cracked by the illegitimate Black.  
"You go first," Harry replied. I finally gave Harry eye contact and was (if nothing) confused by those pools of green. He looked severe of course, but not severe enough to jump down my throat. He almost looked humane; a face I was unfamiliar with from Harry Potter. I took a deep breath and hoped for the best.  
"My dad…_Sirius_…he loved you, you know."  
Harry's eyes got big and he furrowed his brow: he was definitely not expecting that.  
"Yeah?" he asked.

Was I really going to be the one conducting this whole conversation? I nodded in surrender.  
"You were his second child practically. Always told me about you, how he wanted us to meet more than anything. Before the whole rebirth of You-Know-Who, I think he really wanted the three of us to travel together." This most definitely caught him off guard. He looked away from me and resumed his staring contest with the dirt.  
Yes. I _would_ be the one conducting this whole conversation.  
"And I'm not trying to use my dad to get on your good side; I just think it would be, I don't know, disrespectful to utterly loathe one another. We could at least be civil towards—"  
"I didn't mean to blow up at you," _Finally! He talks!_ It was most definitely not the reaction I anticipated, but now I wanted to play the quiet game and stare blankly. He assumed well that I wouldn't respond and continued with his soap-box.  
"I don't want you to leave, contrary to what I said. Quite frankly, I think it's pretty incredible that Sirius had a family."  
"You're just saying that," I said, smiling.  
"No really. I always wondered why he never married. Turns out he did. And honestly if you're anything like your dad, we'll get along fine, not just 'civilly'." Harry smiled weakly.  
"I try to live up to his reputation…the good one, that is, not the 'eats muggles for breakfast' one." Harry laughed. "So does this mean we're cool?" I asked hopefully. He looked at me squarely and put a hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah, _for now_."

* * *

**I like reviews.**


	3. Crooked Teeth

**Chapter Three: Crooked Teeth**

Soundtrack: The Beautiful Letdown by Switchfoot  
Crooked Teeth by Death Cab for Cutie  
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, don't sue.

* * *

I had been staying at the Burrow for about a week and I loved it. It was so unlike any house I've ever been to; full of life and energy of all kinds. I was still convinced that the house was alive too as it continued to jump and sing via quarrels, laughter, moans, and explosions. There was always something to do and someone to keep company. Some might dislike the lack of solitude, but I've had enough alone time to impress a hermit. I needed the the close human contact that the Burrow provided in heapfuls.  
I really liked the Weasley's. They were wacky, and eccentric, and really loud, but they were a real family. They existed as such with the hustle and bustle, little (or not so little) arguments, and punishments, but there was love underneath it all. I watched in wonder when Ron scolded Ginny for dating some boy. She didn't appreciate it as much as I did, but she will someday I guess. I wish I could be part of their family at times, but things are the way they are, and I'm a Black because it's meant to be so.

One day Hermione and Ginny found me in the backyard, lazily doing yardwork. They slowly approached and sat in the grass with me.  
"How old are you?" Ginny asked curiously.  
"Just turned 17 last month," I replied distractedly while tossing a struggling garden gnome. I laid down with my hands behind my head and closed my eyes, basking in the sunlight.  
"Did you go to school in the United States?" Hermione added. I looked up at them with suspicion; was I being interrogated? I nodded anyway.  
" Salem Witches' Institute. Not a bad school, but I left after my fifth year when my dad busted out."  
"Oh! I've heard Massachusetts is just lovely! I went to Maine one summer, have you ever been there?" I shook my head no, smiling at her enthusiasm.  
"Where did you and your mum live?" Ginny continued.  
"I can't say, in case I decide to go back."  
"Why can't you tell anyone?"  
Merlin, I was getting sick of their questioning.  
"It's a perfect hideout, like the Order's in London. Dumbledore's the secret-keeper. If things ever get too crazy here, I can go back and no one would find me."  
Hermione and Ginny looked at each other impressed.  
"Is your mother still living there?"  
I froze at the mention of my mom, and was rushed back through time to her horrible memory.  
_I came home one day from a friend's house during winter break. The doors were unlocked; a strange phenomenon in our home.  
"Mom? I'm home," I called out to a seemingly empty house. _She must be grocery shopping, _I assumed with a shrug as I headed to the kitchen for a snack. As I walked through the swinging door I saw her and froze in place. Dangling by the neck above the island counter, my mom swung limply. I stared in horror: she had finally done it. She killed herself out of grief. All I wanted to do was scream, but I could do nothing…  
_ I was brought back from my memory to Hermione and Ginny.  
"She's dead," I said flatly and stood to leave. I've seen some pretty horrible things, but I don't think I'll ever escape my mother's death. Things look so fragile when you see stuff like that happen before your very eyes.  
"Sorry!" Hermione called out once I reached the back door.  
"It's fine," I said over my shoulder. "People die, right?"

~*~

The next day was probably the greatest I saw all summer. The sky was a perfect blue and a gentle breeze pushed along huge fluffy clouds. It wasn't too hot, and the sun was gleaming overhead. I was in a bad mood of sorts the day before, but I refused to mope around on such a fine day. I clambered down the stairs to breakfast with a smile on.  
"Morning everyone," I called out to the chaos at the table. I was greeted with several enthusiastic replies; apparently the weather had a positive effect on them too.  
I was halfway through my bacon when Ron elbowed me at the table.  
"Hey Nola, we're playing Quidditch today, you in?"  
Quidditch…it sounded intriguing.  
"Sure," I replied. "How do you play?"  
Instantly, Ron, Harry, Charlie, Bill, Fred, George, even Mr. Weasley stopped and stared.  
"You…don't know how to play…Quidditch?" Harry asked slowly. I shook my head slightly. The toast in Fred's mouth fell out and into his lap. Ginny raised her eyebrows in disbelief. My face grew hot.  
"Don't you Yankees play Quidditch?" George asked incredulously.  
I suddenly felt small; I guess the sport was more popular in the UK than I thought.  
"Well, not at SWI…a lot of students are spectators, but I never got into it…" Was it really that big of a deal? I looked around and found Hermione rolling her eyes and continuing her breakfast. Maybe not to some… Ron shook his head and looked back to me.  
"Well it's okay, you don't have to play with us."  
I was slightly annoyed at this. He didn't want me to play because he thinks I'd suck.  
"No. I wanna play." The group became silent again and looked at one another dubiously.  
"Oh Merlin," the twins muttered.

~*~  
"Alright, Charlie and Bill are captains, let's pick teams," Ron dictated. I was standing in line with the rest, an old Cleansweep in hand. I felt a little intimidated, but not too badly. I had ridden a broom before, and I wasn't awful at it. From what Harry briefly told me about Quidditch, it didn't seem too complex; I'm sure I could handle hitting around a blugger or something…Or was it called a butcher?...A blogger? Merlin, I'm screwed.  
"Okay, I pick Harry," Charlie said first. No one was surprised, apparently Harry was an amazing flyer. Suddenly I felt like I was eight again, being subjected to the humiliation of picking teams.  
"George," Bill continued. And so it went on.  
"Fred."  
Bill paused for a moment, his brow furrowed in deep thought; he was choosing between Ron and Ginny.  
"Ginny," he finally said. I laughed inwardly; Ron, who didn't want me to play, was to be picked second-to-last.  
"Ron," Charlie called him over. I just noticed Ron's ears slightly red. Bill inhaled deeply.  
"Alright Nola, get over here."

There wasn't much of a game plan going on for our team. I was to learn later on that we didn't have enough players for a full team, so there would be one chaser, one beater, one seeker, and one keeper. Bill and George argued for quite some time over who should play which position.  
"I don't care if there's a thousand Galleons in that hoop, I'm playing Beater, mate," George insisted. When Bill realized he wasn't making progress he finally submitted. In the end, I was to play the chaser, which meant little to me as I stared in confusion.  
"Just get that red ball, and throw it in the hoop," Ginny said slowly as if I were hard of hearing. It didn't seem so hard; granted, these people had probably been doing this since they learned to walk, but I remained optimistic. On the makeshift field in the Weasley's backyard, we all prepared to mount our brooms. George took a few practice swings with his club (I couldn't remember what exactly that was for…) Bill put on a pair of sunglasses, making him look even cooler. Harry stood in place with a huge grin on his face. I looked over on the other side of the field; Hermione was sitting on a blanket with a book. She looked up and gave me a thumbs-up. I smiled weakly.  
"Alright everyone," Charlie called. "On the count of three: One, two—"  
He didn't have to say three. Fred blasted open the chest of balls and the game promptly started in a blur.  
"YOU BLOODY GIT!" Bill called out as he whizzed over to the Keeper's hoop. It was complete chaos. There were people and objects flying everywhere; giant black cannonballs sped by attempting to hit people, Harry was flying about with such fervor I thought he'd fall off his broom with excitement. Ron managed to hover over to the other hoops and watch the game play out. Suddenly, Charlie rammed into Ginny, nearly knocking her off her broom. She barely managed to climb back on, and continue to look for the snitch. Promptly after, George whacked the cannonball thing at Charlie; it hit him square in the back causing him to drop the waffle…or was it offal?  
And that's when I realized what Quidditch was really all about: while there was a main objective of scoring points and catching the snitch, every player was out to beat the living daylights out of their opponents. I smiled as I drifted through, I could like a game like this.  
"OY! NOLA, GET GOING!" George called from across the field as he hit away another ball. I awoke from my daydream and saw Charlie had retrieved the waffle yet again. It was go time.  
I flew after him full speed, trying desperately to catch him. It took seconds for me to tail him, but we were already at Bill's hoop. Without hesitation, I collided into Charlie with my shoulder. With a loud '_oompf_!' he dropped the red ball and I dove for it, just barely grasping it in my fingers before it hit the earth. And I zoomed past with as much aggression and strength I could possibly muster. My head refused to stray from its objective. I squinted from the wind rushing through my eyes (and a little from concentrating so hard). A cannonball from Fred flew at me that managed to slam into my ankle. I gasped in pain; those things are heavier than I thought. No matter, I kept going until I reached the hoop; Ron looked a little surprised to say the least. I smirked for a fraction of a second then faked left. Ron went to protect the left hoop and I hurled the ball into the right.  
_Score!_  
I shouted in delight and my other teammates followed suit. Oh, how I loved proving people wrong.

The game continued for about half an hour. I thoroughly enjoyed every moment. I had continued to give Charlie a hard time with the Quaffle (as I learned it was called) and managed to push, shove, and inhibit most of the other players. Charlie scored three times and I scored once more. Harry soon after caught the snitch, and Bill, George, Ginny, and I graciously accepted defeat. We floated slowly to the ground and I smiled smugly.  
"Where did you learn to hit like a man?" Charlie asked amazed. I laughed. A man? Really?  
"I used to play rugby…It's a muggle sport," I explained after getting blank stares. "It's on the ground, and it involves a lot of tackling and hitting and all that good stuff."  
"Well, I'll never get on your bad side," Ron said grimly.  
"You best not, good sir," I replied with a wink, then turned back to everyone. "That was really fun though. I'm not much of a flyer, but I wouldn't mind doing this again."  
"You should try out at Hogwarts," Harry piped up. "Aggression always looks good."  
_Perhaps…_ I thought contemplatively. Upon landing on the ground my legs gave way and a wave of pain surged through my left foot. I had completely forgotten about the bludger that hit my ankle. I fell in a heap on the ground and gasped in pain. Bill rolled up my pant leg to find my ankle was swollen to nearly the size of a grapefruit.  
"I think I broke something," I said through clenched teeth.  
"Well, thank _you _Captain Obvious!" George countered. Charlie pulled out his wand to help, but George put up a hand to stop him. "No need, I'll take the brutish lady back to mum." He put my arm around his shoulder and hoisted me up. With his arm around my waist, we began to slowly limp back to the Burrow.  
I stumbled a few times wincing in pain, but George would only hold on tighter. Eventually my feet barely touched the ground, my right toe touching soil once every few paces.  
_He's strong, _I thought as I looked up at him a little impressed. He barely seemed to struggle, practically carrying me like that. I could feel his muscles contracting on the small of my back.  
"Why didn't you just levitate me back?" I asked curiously. This seemed like a laborious task for any wizard with a wand. He looked down at me and smirked playfully.  
"Because," he stated grandly. "I am a gentleman. And gentlemen do _not _levitate ladies."  
I rolled my eyes; of course I wouldn't get a straight answer from a funny-man.  
"You know," I said in a teasing tone. "I vaguely remember you and your brother saying something along the lines of 'Don't get used to this!'" I impersonated as best as I could George Weasley, British accent and all. George smiled. Was he blushing too?  
"Yeah, well, our products don't break girls' ankles."  
"Nice save," I laughed.  
George walked me inside and to Mrs. Weasley, not releasing his grip from me until I was safely seated.

I would have never admitted it at the time, but my heart raced as I clung to George with bated breath; and it wasn't because of the leg.  


* * *

**I feel like a parrot repeating this, but review please?**


	4. Summer Skin

**Chapter Four: Summer Skin  
Soundtrack: I'm Still Here by John Rzeznik  
Summer Skin by Death Cab for Cutie**  
**Disclaimer: I don't own, so don't sue.**  


* * *

The summer was coming to a close and I was getting closer to having to go back to school for the first time in three years. I really didn't want to, and had actually managed to ignore the issue until Mrs.

Weasley announced that we all needed to buy books. I groaned at breakfast on the fateful morning we'd be going to Diagon Alley. The summer really went by too fast.

So here's the deal with my lack of enthusiasm for school: It's a combination of a few contributing factors that have made me avoid a classroom for so long.

1. I'm incredibly over school.

So no, I didn't exactly aspire to be a drop-out growing up. I was actually intending on returning to Salem Witches' Institute once I was ready. But being completely independent and experiencing the

real world first-hand kind of changes you I guess. After a while I realized I didn't need to learn anything else in order to survive. Did I know _everything_? No, but if there's anything I really need to know

to save my life, I can take initiative myself to figure it out.

2. Rules.

I've been living without them for three years! No one has told me when to go to bed or when to use a restroom, to eat like so, to wear my clothes a certain way, blah blah blah. Dad cared little for

authority and to no surprise, I don't care either.

And of course,

3. I'll be officially going public, which scares the crap out of me.

I tried pretty hard in the U.S. to just be that one kid who never attracts too much attention; you can't hate them because they're low-key and never bother anyone, and you totally forget about them

every summer. But I'm pretty sure from now on I'll be stared at like a zoo animal for the rest of my natural life. All the attention I get will probably be negative and I'll most likely be carefully scrutinized

all the time.

Yes, I agreed to this. No, I do not want to live a lie forever, but the thought of all those people knowing me, and my father, and my nasty family…I just wish it didn't have to be such a drastic transition.

Anyways, after breakfast, I lamely slumped back to the room I was sharing with Hermione and Ginny to get dressed. I couldn't help but sigh as I rummaged through my small bag of belongings. Ginny

looked over with confusion painted on her face.

"What's eating you, Nola?" she asked and I looked up with melancholic disdain.

"I don't know, the idea of school…" I feigned a shudder to get the point across. "And school _shopping_?" I laughed dryly and motioned at the old t shirt and ripped jeans I threw on. "I'm obviously not

much of a spender. I mean, I think I've had these jeans since like, third year."

Mrs. Weasley cornered me downstairs as I was slipping on an ancient pair of flip flops.

"Nola, you don't have anything nicer to wear?" A trace of worry lingered in her voice. I stared at the woman a little confused; I had been dressing like so the entire time I stayed at the Burrow and no

one seemed to care. The worn fabrics, holes, and faded colors resembled a lot of the Weasley's clothing themselves. Why would I have to dress differently today?

"Um…There's this one sweater I have, but it's unraveling at the bottom…comes about up to here now," I motioned towards just above my bellybutton. Mrs. Weasley looked more distressed. "Am I being

set up on a blind date or something?" I asked trying to make light of the mood. She looked at me with even more severity. I began to get worried; something must be going on. Finally, Molly exhaled

and spilled.

"You're going to be meeting some public figures today," she admitted slowly. I stared blankly. My breath stopped in anticipation.

"Like…who?" I asked frightened. This could not be good.

"A writer from the _Daily Prophet_. And the new Minister of Magic." Mrs. Weasley looked at me with guilt, as my heart nearly went into arrest. I swallowed hard and listened to her words echo in my head.

_The Daily Prophet……The Minister of Magic…..The bloody Minister of Magic!_ I sat down slowly and stared into space as panic surged through me in waves.

"Bloody hell…" I muttered after a few moments. I looked up at Mrs. Weasley who frowned apologetically.

"Dumbledore's idea?" I assumed. She nodded and I smirked in response.

"Of course it was his idea."

"Nola, it'll be alright dear. We can leave as soon as you've finished talking with them, and you won't have to see a soul until term starts."

Mrs. Weasley had a point, you know. Now that she put it that way, it didn't seem so completely terrible. She was right; I'd at least have a few days of peace before having to go to Hogwarts. As all of

the kids began to gather around the fireplace ready to leave, I exhaled in submission.

"Alright, let's get this over with."

~*~

I waited in the Leaky Cauldron with Mr. Weasley for the new Minister of Magic to meet us. Mrs. Weasley had repaired my sweater, but I picked at the ends so nervously that it threatened to unravel

again. I watched every witch and wizard walk through the doors, my heart racing each time.

"Not to worry, Nola," Mr. Weasley said brightly, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "Rufus Scrimgeour is a very reasonable man. I'm sure he'll understand."

He may have spoken truthfully, but it didn't loosen the knots in my stomach, or slow my heart rate to a normal rhythm.

Promptly at 12:30, an older man with thick graying hair walked into the Leaky Cauldron. Mr. Weasley immediately straightened in his chair and I knew this was our guy. Mr. Weasley motioned for him to

come over and Scrimgeour walked across the pub in a stately manner. When he approached, Mr. Weasley rose to shake his hand.

"Nice to see you Arthur," Scrimgeour said gruffly with a nod.

"And you as well, sir. Please, have a seat."

"I can't stay long, so if you'll be brief, what did you want to show—"at that moment he noticed my presence before he could finish what he wanted to say. "Good afternoon…" he said slowly with a look

of confusion on his face. I smiled weakly and waited for Mr. Weasley to do all the talking. Right on cue he stepped in.

"I thought you should meet this young lady," he said, wringing his hands. "Sir, this is Nola Black: she's Sirius Black's estranged daughter."

Scrimgeour just stared blankly for a moment, his mouth slightly agape; we had clearly thrown him a curve ball. I tried really hard to avoid eye contact.

"You're…serious?" he finally said curiously. I tried hard to choke back a giggle at the accidental pun he just made. Scrimgeour's eyes narrowed in a scrutinizing way: he was searching for an apparent

resemblance.

"Afraid so," I said in a small voice. He continued to look me up and down until finally he took a deep breath. He leaned back and ran a hand through his grey mane, simultaneously pulling a pipe out of

his breast pocket. While lighting it, he looked me square in the eyes.

"Explain yourself."

Being as brief as possible, I told Scrimgeour everything (aside from Dumbledore being our secret-keeper, I didn't want to get him in trouble). Scrimgeour did not interrupt; he simply puffed away at his

pipe, occasionally raising a perplexed eyebrow. I finished my tale and waited for a response, but he continued to look at me as if I had more to say.

"And that's it," I said shortly. Scrimgeour took another deep breath and put away his pipe.

"I suppose you'll have to speak with the press…can't have a criminal's daughter pop into existence overnight…"

"He wasn't a criminal," I said as firmly as manners would allow.

"Oh yes, sorry. Old habits, you know." But he didn't look sorry. I don't think he even cared, or felt any remorse for my dad. I glared at the man and wished of all people he would sympathize. But he just

ran a hand through his hair and glared right back.

"I don't want any trouble from you." He said in a low voice. I was taken aback by this; I had not expected him to pin me as some sort of ruffian.

"Sir…" He pointed a large knuckled finger at my face.

"I don't want you glamorizing your father either. Even if he was innocent, it's in the past and we don't need any more of a ruckus." Was he kidding? He actually thought I'd act like some raving lunatic.

"To be perfectly honest, I don't like this whole thing one bit. If it were in my power I'd have you stay in hiding." I was beginning to dislike this man very much. He stood to leave and I was relieved our

conversation was almost over.

"But control of willpower is not in my job description. So go ahead Miss Black: tell the wizarding world who you are. But if I hear that you are in the least out of line or causing problems, I'll send you

straight back to where you came from." He turned to Mr. Weasley, who this whole time had watched in awe and horror. "Good day, Arthur." And Scrimgeour swept out of the pub, leaving me utterly

speechless. _So much for an understanding and reasonable man…  
_

"_That's _your boss?" I asked Mr. Weasley, still staring at the door.

"Yes, yes he is," he replied feebly. "Must've been having a bad day…"

"Yeah, I'm sure that's it," I muttered. Finally snapping out of it, Mr. Weasley turned to me, his regular smile on as if nothing happened.

"Right, well, I suppose it's time for you to meet with the Prophet!"

I groaned in contempt. I had been tricked into thinking this whole ordeal would be easy. It in fact only made me want to drink gasoline.

"Can't I take a break for a few minutes? I _have_ just been threatened by the Minister of Magic and all..."

"Now, now, Nola, you know what the muggles say: there's no time like the now!" Mr. Weasley grinned.

"Present…It's there's no time like the present, Mr. Weasley."

"Right, well they're one in the same. Come on then, off we go."

We immediately bustled out of the Leaky Cauldron and headed towards the Daily Prophet's headquarters. I had a feeling of complete dread in the pit of my stomach and just knew this wasn't going to

turn out well…

~*~

I had been hiding from everyone again; I just couldn't handle facing them, it was too embarrassing. Nestled against an ancient tree at the far end of the Weasley's property, I spent the last day of

summer in miserable solitude. I had really just wanted to cry my eyes raw and scream at the top of my lungs. There was a constant lump in my throat that begged for escape, but I don't know, dad

would've said something about being strong. And he'd be right, I mean, if I was just some weepy little orphan I'd get kicked around all the time, right?

The Daily Prophet arrived this morning with my face plastered across the front page. The interview the day before was not exactly as smooth as I had hoped. It was in fact completely disastrous:

_**Criminal's Daughter Comes Out of Hiding!**__  
_

_Have his secrets driven her mad with grief?  
_

_An exposee by Jeremy Campbell__  
_

_Sirius Black, as we have all been informed, was killed this past June, leaving nothing behind but a horrid memory and a relieved wizarding world.  
_

_But was that all there was to the story?  
_

_With further investigation, this humble reporter has found that Black's infamy was only the tip of the iceberg.  
_

_Nola Black, alias Lex Williams is the newly discovered daughter of Black and magic's freshest scandal.  
_

_We have recently found out that Black had married pureblood Margaret Reay, who went missing after the incarceration of her unacknowledged husband. The Ministry had always believed her disappearance was _

_related to You-Know-Who and his followers.  
_

_Merlin, how wrong we were. Frightened, ashamed, and embarrassed, Reay fled with young Nola to the United States, where they hid for years. With a closer look, we found that Reay had killed herself, seemingly _

_far too ashamed of Black.  
_

_"I just want people to know the truth," Nola comments, choking back tears. She is a smart witch, greatly resembling her father, but grief has kept her on the bridge of illness.  
_

_This term, Black will be attending Hogwarts to complete her seventh year. Some will question if she is stable enough. Jumping down anyone's throat who insults her father, she reveals that she has many _

_demons of her past to overcome. Yet others will believe she will follow the footsteps of her late father.  
_

_"I just want to be normal," she tells me, a sad tremor of desperation in her voice.  
_

_Oh, if only it were possible, Miss Black. Surname alone will forever inhibit you from such wishes. *_

That reporter played me. He took all the pieces of me that showed any sign of weakness and made me look like a loony. I had never felt more humiliated. He never even _mentioned_ how my dad was

wrongly accused; like a true greed infested monster, he took only the most crude and vile information, filtering out anything moral or even true. It was all bollocks, and I honestly should've seen it

coming.

Tomorrow I'd be going to Hogwarts to meet hundreds of laughing, pitying, or even enraged peers and teachers. I'd have to hide the fact that their words and stares bother me for a whole year. There's

no way in hell that I would ever just be normal, not with the slander and chides buzzing around my head.

So because of all this ludicrous nonsense, I think I was warranted one last day of isolation. I didn't want to think, I didn't want to feel. I didn't want to remember. For one day, I wanted to just sit out

and look at the landscape, wondering if this is what other people see. I just wanted to fade into everything around me for a bit.

"Hey," a voice greeted from behind. I loved over my shoulder and saw George standing a few feet away. My stomach fluttered a little which I quickly ignored. I turned back silently to watch a doe and

her foal caper playfully in the fields.

"Hey," I replied distantly. All I wanted was to be alone, but George did not move. I heard him impatiently shuffling his feet.

"It's getting late, dinner's gonna be ready soon."

I closed my eyes in disdain. My stomach growled at the thought of food; I had not eaten all day.

"I'm not hungry," I said despite biological needs. After a moment's silence, George sat down against the tree next to me. We sat like that for quite some time and watched the deer play. Soon enough,

the sky turned amber as the sun began to slowly set and I watched in horror as the last day of summer began to slip through my fingers.

"You know," George began, "the Daily Prophet writes cock-and-bull stories all the time lately. No one really believes what it says anymore."

I rolled my eyes with a snort. "You're just trying to make me feel better." George chuckled.

"Well is it working? Don't want to be wasting my time."

I looked over at him. He was smiling, as usual, and his caramel eyes were twinkling…they were nice. I smiled in return with narrowed eyes.

"A little." I pulled my knees to my chest and rested my chin on them. We were silent again. Above us, a family of birds was chirping happily just before going to bed. A soft breeze pushed the long

drooping willow leaves around us. Everything seemed to be alive…_is this what other people feel?  
_

"You can't just let them bother you," George continued. "You'll get eaten alive by all the garbage if you do."

"You think so?" I fixed my gaze back to George. He nodded.

"Besides, that reporter bloke didn't even talk about how _truly _dreadful you are." A wicked smile spread across his face and a giggle escaped from my mouth.

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

George clapped his hands together mischeviously. "Well, for one, you're horribly violent and you get a kick out of seeing people bleed or something. You talk in your sleep, you have terrible table

manners, you dress like a muggle hippie, you're a citizen of the UK, yet you have an earsplitting Yankee accent, and your taste in music is sub-par at best."

My eyebrows rose a little higher at every accusation, and I felt like my mouth would drop to the floor when the attack had ended, but in half a second, I erupted in peals of laughter and pushed George

in the shoulder. He fell over and in a feigned attempt at grace, propped himself up on one elbow to face me.

"How'd you know all of that?" I asked when my laughter had finally calmed. "I haven't even been here that long." It truly was astounding; I didn't think anyone could observe that much in only a few

weeks, especially stuff about me, it's not like I'm that incredibly interesting. George shrugged nonchalantly.

"I listen." A slight blush crept across his cheeks, which he grinned away promptly.

From a five minute conversation, my mood had lifted immediately; it was incredible. George was right. I couldn't go around getting upset about every insult that gets thrown my way. That's just

preposterous; I'm a public figure now, that kind of behavior would drive me mad. Like the teasings from childhood bullies, I could ignore this too.

I smiled at my redheaded savior. "You're a good friend George."

His smile grew and that spark in his eyes returned.

"You're not so bad either Nola. Fred and I just may have to take you under our wing at school." I imagined the twins and I raising complete hell at Hogwarts: it was something my father would most

definitely be proud of.

"I'd like that."

But then my brow furrowed, remembering something particularly insulting George said minutes before. I jumped to my feet, newly offended and pulled out my wand.

"_Aguamenti!" _and a jet of water shot straight at George's face. With sopping hair, he looked up in complete shock, his mouth agape.

"I do _not_ have bad taste in music."

George continued to stare, droplets of water falling slowly down his face. He opened and closed his mouth a few times as if to speak, but I know I left him speechless. He finally wiped his face

thoughtlessly with his sleeve and slowly stood.

"You…are gonna pay for that!"

Before I could even react, he lifted me in a fireman hold on his shoulder and started walking briskly away from the tree.

"George, put me down!" I laughed, beating my fists into his back, but he refused and kept walking. He reached the edge of a stagnant pond and my thoughts were flooded with halfhearted dread. I

continued to struggle but he was too strong and launched me into the pool. The water was cool as I landed with an obnoxious splash; the water was dark and dirty. I resurfaced, choking up weeds

and glaring at my assailant. George burst into laughter of such a high caliber that it nearly brought him to his knees.

"You…look…ridiculous!" he roared as his eyes began to water. I slowly walked out of the waist high pond and looked myself over: I was covered in mud. There were strands of long grass stuck to my

clothes and entangled in my hair. Upon rubbing my eyes I found large smears of black in my hands: my mascara was running like crazy.

George was still laughing, almost choking for air. I smiled evilly in return. And as quickly as he had picked me up, I tackled him straight into the dirty puddle. George resurfaced just as muddy and gross

looking as myself, and so we carried on in an all out splash war to settle the score.

"I, George Weasley, am king of this pond!" George declared grandly as I dunked him underwater. When he surfaced I clung to his shoulders and piggy backed him.

"I, Nola Black, am king of this Weasley!" I imitated. I felt his muscles tense and I immediately regretted saying that, my face burning red. He turned around in my grasp to face me with wide eyes,

allowing us both to recognize the awkwardness of the situation. I let go of his shoulders quickly and looked away. I guess he felt his stomach flutter from time to time too then…

Not standing the weirdness for a moment longer, I plunged underwater and swam about the bottom for a little while. The water was dark, and I couldn't see anything down there but I continued to

explore the murky depths.

"Nola?" I could just barely hear George call above. In response, I grabbed his ankle in that second and pulled him under too.

We swam above and I laughed as he sputtered for air. The sun had almost set and I shuddered at the dusk's chill. On cue, we stepped out of the pond and wringed out our hair and clothes.

"Not a bad way to end summer holiday, I suppose," I thought out loud. George smirked.

"Guess not, I've endured worse," he joked and I punched his arm playfully. I thought about the excruciatingly long day we had ahead of us tomorrow and sighed.

"Am I gonna hate Hogwarts?" I asked randomly. George thought about it for a moment.

"Once you overcome your fears of authority or rules, it's not so bad…They also have good food."

_Speaking of food…  
_

"Fair enough…come on, let's go eat. I'm actually starving."

George smiled slyly. "I knew it. I've seen you eat." He proceeded to pantomime shoveling handfuls of food into his mouth rapidly.

"Says the boy who eats like a farm animal," I countered. George bowed in mock praise.

I turned around to see where the sun had once been and breathed in the cool night air, exhaling with peaceful remorse.

"Goodbye summer," I breathed quietly. George turned to catch a glimpse of the faintly pink horizon; a ghost of the sun's rays. He breathed in and looked on in deep thought, and I swear, for a split

second, he saw what I saw.

_"Goodbye summer."_

_

* * *

_**Please review, someone, anyone! I know you're reading, alerting, favorite-ing...please take a few extra moments and tell me what you think. First person to review gets a cameo part in the next chapter!**_  
_


	5. Stockholm Syndrome

**Chapter Five: Stockholm Syndrome  
Soundtrack: Stockholm Syndrome by Blink 182  
Man and Wife, the Latter (Damaged Goods) by Desaparecidos  
Coney Island by Good Old War  
Reminder: You can stream these songs on Grooveshark!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own, don't sue.

* * *

**

_I was nine years old. Mom was tending to the garden in a last attempt to save it from the scorching sun in the middle of a drought. She had not looked so well lately, with sallow skin and sunken eyes. I could tell_

_she was sad again._

_"Tell me more about my dad," I begged once again. She had told me nearly everything about him and his adventures at least ten times, but like a bedtime story, I wanted to hear them over and over again._

_Mom's face grew dark and retreated into a malicious frown that became more recurring every day; I remember when she used to smile…_

_"I don't want to talk about _him_," she snapped. "I don't want you bringing him up ever again."_

_And from the thought of never hearing of the mystical being of my father, I cried. Mom didn't notice as she menacingly pruned at the wilting sunflowers._

_  
Then I was fifteen. After months of scouring the Scottish wilderness, I had finally found my father in a far-off cave. He was in the form of a black dog, but I knew better, so I was not afraid as he bared his teeth_

_viciously. I placed my picture on the ground at his feet and he scrutinized it carefully._

_"It's me," I whispered. Ever still he stood, his furious facade fading gradually as he looked down from the photograph to me._

_Then, quicker than my eyes could register, he disappeared into the shadows deeper in the cave. When he emerged, I saw him as his true self for the first time in my life. He was older, and so severely_

_malnourished that his robes drowned him in a sea of grey. The smile I observed in my picture was long gone, and his eyes danced frantically._

_"Nola…how?" but I had no time to answer, for he swiftly approached and embraced me in a hug of such fervor it seemed he'd never let go._

_Then he did something I thought he'd never do based on his legends of bravery, wit, and a sharp tongue: he wept. With joy, fear, and all other overwhelming emotion, he shed dozens of tears, cradling me in a_

_way as if to make up for all the years of absence. And before I could stop myself, I was crying too. I had finally found him, and he was all I hoped him to be. He let go and looked me in the eyes, _his _eyes._

_"Your mother? Where…" he trailed off when he noticed the expression of grief and horror on my face, and all I could do was shake my head mournfully._

_Suddenly dad doubled over and shouted in pain. He looked up and I saw blood streaming from his eyes…_my _eyes. He frantically clawed at the skin on his face, which was peeling off on contact._

_No. He was dying. It was too soon, I had just met him. Like a phoenix, he burst into flames and flailed and screeched in agony, calling my name over and over as burning flesh melted from his frame._

_And all I could do was scream right back._

"DAD!"

I awoke with a jolt, forgetting where I was entirely for a second until I saw the worried faces of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. I must have dozed off on the Hogwarts Express. My face felt clammy

with sweat and my heart was still racing from that terrible nightmare.

"You alright then?" Ron asked cautiously. He looked on as if I might spontaneously combust at any moment.

"How long have I been sleeping?" I asked, completely avoiding Ron's question. I didn't feel like lying.

"About an hour or so," Harry replied, checking his watch. "We'll be there soon."

I looked outside the window and saw blackness. Despite being nearly drenched in sweat, I shivered, quite cold; it was a very hot day earlier and I left London in only an old tie-dyed shirt and cutoffs.

"I think I'll go to the restroom…change and wash my face maybe…" I said distractedly, pulling out my brand new school robes. The four exchanged doubtful glances, I guess they were used to seeing

people go through episodes like that.

I dunked my face in the sink filled with water and tried to relax my tensed muscles. Little bubbles escaped from my nose, the tickle calming me a little. I rose with a deep breath, dried my face, and

rested my hands on the sink's edge just to stop the shaking. The dream felt so real, but I know it wasn't. That's not how it happened. When dad asked about mom, he shrugged sadly, but did not burst

into flames. He sat down and we played catch-up worth fifteen years.  
_  
…What if that's how he really died? In complete agony…screaming._ I forced the thought out of my head and tried to control my breathing. Glaring at myself in the mirror, I demanded order.

"Get a hold of yourself, Black," I muttered. "It was just a dream. You're just nervous about school."

Upon further inspection, I realized how completely awful I looked. My hair was a complete mess, curls and frizz going in every direction imaginable. Beneath it, my eyes were puffy and bloodshot, above

two bruise-like purplish circles. My skin was always fair, but in this light, I looked ghostly. I sighed slightly annoyed, and began damage control.

There was nothing to be done about my hair (there never was anyway), so I just ran a hand through it a few times, slightly taming it. Out of a makeup bag I grabbed some concealer and Visine. The

eye drops were for my own comfort; they did little to relieve the redness, but my eyes at last didn't sting so much with fatigue. Being as I was making a first impression on hundreds, I blended some

concealer under my eyes, making me look at least alive. For good luck, I applied some eyeliner, and still not happy with my complexion, desperately pinched my cheeks to encourage circulation. At least

half pleased and dressed for Hogwarts I turned to head back to the compartment.

But of course, as I walked out, someone was walking in, and I stereotypically collided into them with such force that I ended up on my backside.

"Oh, Merlin! I'm sorry; I can be a klutz sometimes." A girl about my age extended her hand and I gladly accepted it to quickly escape this embarrassing situation.

"No worries," I replied while rising. I was about a head taller than her, and she was much prettier than me. Now, I'm not saying I'm a hopeless troll, but there's no way in hell I can compete with thin

sleek-haired girls. I just can't do it.

The girl's sheepish smile turned to one of awe.

"You're Sirius Black's daughter, aren't you? Nola Black." I was prepared for this. I knew I would run into conflict eventually, so bracing myself, I gave a half smile and nodded. I thought maybe this girl

would hit me, or shout at me and tell me how me and my dad are horrible people, but she didn't do any of those things. No, instead she shook my hand.

"I'm Jordan Ratchford, 6th year Ravenclaw." I don't know why she was eager to meet me, but I was grateful. All I could do in my near state of shock was mutter a

"Nice to meet you."

"It's a real shame about your father…_and _your mum. I'm sorry. Must be awful." This was really going in the opposite direction I anticipated.

"It's okay."

We sort of just stood there awkwardly for a moment, not knowing what to say to each other. I ran a hand through my hair and looked at the floor.

"Well, if you need help getting around the school, or with your homework, just come find me. I'm sorry but I really have to use the loo…See you around!" And with that, she headed into the stall and I

left.  
_  
Had I just made a friend?_

As I reached the compartment, the train began to slow gradually until finally coming to a halt. I went to get my trunk to find only Ginny inside.

"Where is everyone?" I asked while hoisting my trunk down from above.

"Ron and Hermione are with the other prefects, and Harry must be changing or something." Ginny followed suit and gathered her things.

"Oh," I said, wondering what the bloody hell a prefect was, vaguely remembering Remus saying he was once one. "So where do we go?"

Ginny's face fell guiltily.

"I was going to meet up with Dean…" And I immediately understood. She had two months of snogging to catch up on. I smiled at her and she blushed.

"It's okay, don't worry about me," I said reassuringly. "Just point me in the right direction?"

Ginny nodded thankfully and explained to hop on a carriage that will take me to the castle. I trudged through the train, receiving some suspicious glances and points that only reminded me of being at

the train station earlier. I'm not sure if I'd have them avoid me like a disease infested leper or bombard me with attention. Either one seems bad in its own light.

My obnoxiously heavy trunk was relieved of me (thank Merlin) and my eyes scanned the area looking for this said carriage. There were so many students, it was maddening. I couldn't see a thing past

the throng of people.

Very suddenly, I was yanked from my thoughts as a large body slammed harshly into my shoulder, almost too harsh to be an accident. I looked up to the giant towering boy accompanied by a gang of

scowling friends.

"Watch where you're going," grunted the horrifying gargantuan. I raised my eyebrows incredulously; here was conflict that I anticipated but nonetheless refused to take.

"Excuse me? _You _bumped into _me_."

Flabbergasted that I even attempted to defend myself, the boy stared speechless, then he advanced forward with clenched fists, as if to actually _hit _me. But a tall dark boy stopped him. He wasn't

trying to help me however, he just wanted his turn.

"Goyle bumped into you. What's your point, _Black?" _He spat my name at me in such a venomous manner it nearly stung, and I could only stare in the most hateful way. The entire group stared back

with a matching hostility.

"You have a lot of nerve just showing up here. Your _repulsive_ excuse for a father caused a lot of trouble for a lot of people." The boy smiled when he saw me wince at the mention of my father. A callous

looking girl behind him let out a shriek of laughter. "If I were you, I'd watch it."

Not five minutes into the school year and I'm already being threatened…_Fabulous._

A pointy faced boy with white-blonde hair caught up to these hideous people.

"Malfoy, where've you been?" The large mannish student asked stupidly. The newcomer opened his mouth to say something to the large troll, but his eyes landed on me instead. Upon immediate

recognition, he grinned maliciously and advanced so I could endure another slew of insults. But before he could speak, a familiar voice shouted,

"Oy! Nola!" and sure enough, Fred, George, and several others were approaching fast.

"What are you doing over here?" Fred asked me, glaring at the assaulting posse.

"Trying not to die…" I muttered under my breath. The nasty blonde named Malfoy once again attempted to speak, but George quickly grabbed my wrist and pulled me away.

"Come on, you're riding with us to the castle." As we pushed through the crowd to a carriage pulling itself, I heard the dark boy call out to me.

"Remember what I said, Black!"  
_  
Five minutes…Really?_

Once inside the carriage, the twins introduced me to their friends. Lee Jordan was second in command to Fred and George's growing inventory. He was loud, boisterous, and quite lively. I liked him.

Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell were on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. They seemed really intense about it and were rather happy that I was a new convert to the sport.

"What house do you want to be in, Nola?" Angeline asked.

"Yeah, we'll tell you which positions are open for each one," Katie added. _Jeez, these girls really meant business.  
_  
"My dad was a Gryffindor, so it'd be cool if I were one." I speculated. "But I'll be honest with you, I'd be happy with anything but Slytherin." I added sadly. It was a miracle in itself that my dad was put

in Gryffindor, what are the odds _another _Black won't be put in Slytherin?

"Well," Angelina continued. "Slytherin's short a beater and two chasers this year. But they usually only recruit guys…"

"We're looking for a new chaser," Katie cut in optimistically. "Who knows? Maybe we'll be playing together." I shrugged.

"I'll keep an open mind." And I meant it when I said that. Looking past my heritage, there's a one in four chance of getting into Slytherin. That's minute. And all of the other houses seem fine. I don't

know, I just hate hanging around blood supremacists. They never want to shut up about it.

We turned a bend in the road and I took a glimpse of the enormous castle that would be my home for the next year. It looked like something straight out of the stories my mother used to read to me.

With green rolling hills surrounding it, and perched above a glassy lake, it was wonderfully picturesque.

"Wow," I couldn't help but say, utterly amazed.

And when I stared at all the tiny details of the grounds in amazement, I thought of Harry, and how some twenty years ago, our own fathers were returning to school, young and lively before the world

turned dark. I wondered about how simple everything probably was back then, and how it's never been like that our entire lives; there was always something messing it up.  
_  
Maybe things will get better this year _I thought, trying my best to avoid the truth.

~*~

I stood outside of what I learned to be the Great Hall and waited with a group of first years. I could hear the loud chatter of the student body inside and shuffled my feet impatiently. I was bored,

hungry, and really wanted to get this sorting business over with so I could breathe again. Not to mention there were a few dozen eleven-year-olds staring at me fearfully and whispering my name

every few seconds; it was incredibly annoying.

Finally after what seemed like hours, a stern looking witch came out of the Great Hall and stood before us. No it was her turn to be stared at in sheer terror. I didn't see what the first years saw; it

must have been the height difference.

"Good evening," she said briskly. "I am Professor McGonnagall, head of Gryffindor House. In a few moments you will be sorted into your houses." And she continued to tell us precisely what to do when

we entered the Great Hall. We were all supposed to stand awkwardly in front of this hat while it sings and then get called up one by one for our judgment. And to make it better, I'd be going _first.  
_  
So that's exactly what we did. We walked into the hall in rows of two, and stood in a semi-circle around a ratty old hat. It opened its (mouth?) and began to sing. I don't remember it verbatim, but it

just went on about all the houses and the school itself. To be honest, I spaced out during most of it; I was so hungry.

At last the sorting began when Professor McGonnagall beckoned me forth.

"Nola Black," she stated severely. Like a walk of shame, I stepped forward, slightly red, as I heard all the whispers. _Yes it was true, the degenerate's daughter had come to Hogwarts…_

McGonnagall gave me sort of a reassuring smile as I sat on an old stool and she placed the hat on my head.

"Another Black?" The hat chimed into my ear. "I thought there were none of you left…" I held my breath in complete dread. A _hat _would be deciding my fate for the rest of the year.

"Well, I could put you into Slytherin and call it a day…" he continued, and my heart stopped. "But you would make a rather fine Hufflepuff." A sliver of hope reentered my body. The hat sighed. "You

leave me no choice though…GRYFFINDOR!" An entire table of red and gold leapt to their feet and roared. My heart swelled so much I thought it would explode. I stood shakily and took long strides to

the table. I saw George beaming and my breath was caught in my throat. I sat next to Lee across from Harry, and everyone grinned. Ron clapped a hand on my shoulder, and Fred raised my hand up

victoriously from my other side.

"We knew you'd be one of us," Ginny congratulated.

_  
One of us…That sounded beautifully new.  
_

* * *

_**So yeah, five chapters and only one review? Please remedy this problem. I'm getting discouraged, and I don't want to threaten you and say I won't continue, cause I love writing this, but desperate times, man...**_

_**Reviewers get a free timeturner, three pairs of X-Ray glasses, and a flagon of pumpkin juice! (Shipping and Handling not included [= )**  
_


End file.
